To my Ex

Who I still love

Here I am, once again. Pouring my heart out after I was the one who decided to run away instead of fighting for what I had.

From when we’re little up to when we’re adults, we hear everyone talking about love, marriage, having kids and everything else that makes up a relationship. There are many rules on loving. Conditions that affect directly the connection we may have with someone else.

In our everyday lives we are exposed to the idea of perfect love, finding Mr. Right and staying with them until death do us part.

Movies remind us of what it can be and sometimes even how it should be, traditions within families and culture are also indicators that shape the way we think and behave when having a relationship of our own.

Growing up I never really understood love, I would see my parents fighting then hugging each other just to fight again over the first minor inconvenience. I would hear people saying “love hurts” and things like “yeah, It’s ok if he cheats because I would not rather be alone”. — I guess I don’t have to tell every relationship I’ve known of my extended family has been dysfunctional, not to mention my own — . My mother has married and divorced twice and only one of her 7 sisters is still married.

Instead of convincing myself that they were right, I grew up to have the worst case of commitment issues ever seen. My brain goes into panic mode every time I feel like I might be behaving exactly like my parents and I respond with immediate departure, mending things becomes an unavailable option and I can only feel like we’re forever doomed and breaking up is the only resource left.

I convinced my self that love does not hurt -quoting my Nonna, who was quoting the bible when she told this to a very young me- love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Meaning that even if the tiniest of the mentioned above happens I panic and I hate it.

I wish someone had taught me to repair, to stick around and fight to make things right, to appreciate the rain so I can have the most beautiful rainbow.

Because after I’m done panicking, I realize I could have done better and you might think that just because I’m aware of what I do I can stop doing it but as for now It might be a phobia.

A phobia is an irrational fear or aversion to something. Fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, harm. I would like to excuse my behavior by blaming my irrational fear of being in pain. Escaping love was my defense mechanism and it not was until I discovered a new fear that I thought I had done the right thing.

Regret.

I don’t seem to be able to stop thinking about the what ifs. What if I had known better? What If I had broken the pattern and stop seeking refugee in traumas I can just decide to leave behind? How come I didn’t know better? and It’s killing me, it’s killing me because I remorse not giving a fight, not staying around long enough to find my own answers.

As a teenager I made a promise to myself that I would marry young, start a family and be with that lucky guy until my last breath. I never imagined that would mean facing challenges or sometimes feeling like loving was a constant job. That’s why I met my dream guy and left.

I left him and all our plans behind and now they hunt me. I overthought every possible situation and calculated a 15% rate of success but never realized 15% is sometimes more than enough. I listened to everyone but my heart. I took their deception, the time they wasted and made me a firm believer that If I fought for it I would be just like them. Because we’re not supposed to fight for love or are we? We fight for everything else, why shouldn’t we?

Love is defined as “deep affection for another”, most people just go their separate ways because they no longer feel affection for each other; yet we were never lacking in love. It wasn’t ever a question of whether we loved each other or not, because if love could fill a whole room — ours would have needed more space. It would have burst out of the windows and banged open doors. It would have made every potential negative outcome, positive and increased that 15% to a hundred.

I still don’t get it. I pretty much still don’t understand love.

Instead I am left with the bittersweet taste of wanting it all back. Memories feel like a stain on my skin I can’t get rid of. Yet I have never been happier about being broken hearted, in fact I could have my heart broken a thousand times if its by you.

Wanting doesn’t necessarily make something possible, so I understand our goodbye was permanent. I could never allow myself to hurt you and I can only hope I never had the power to do so. I learned the hard way, that yes, I was supposed to be braver, I was supposed to stick around and fight.

I only hope you have forgotten about me, I hope you’re lighting up the room every time you walk in, I hope you’re smiling and dancing and I hope that whoever comes next knows how to love you better.

I will never thank the universe enough for bumping into you and creating such a story even if it ended.

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Camilla Santana

Camilla Santana

Coventry University Finance student with a vivid passion for Fashion & Social Issues. Looking to change the world an outfit at a time. Ringarde and Libertarian.